Aden

"Tell me the truth, now, because I'm honestly not sure." Tarsus' lips purse as the muscles in their throat convulse in a swallow. "Do you remember anything from your old life before you became a mortal?"

Tarsus is hunched before Clav again, Clav once again chained to the floor of the earthen cell after he tried to make a run for it. This cell reeks so bad I have to swallow several times to keep down my own heaving. All he has is a bucket in the corner to relieve himself, and it's clear no one has bothered emptying it out in the two days he's been locked in here. He's still wearing that pale pink button down and blue jeans, but they're both stained with sweat and blood and puke.

The way Clav looked at me when his powers didn't return nearly convinced me that maybe I was right all along. Tarsus has spent hundreds of years among cutthroat, deceitful fae. They don't trust anyone. But I grew up among humans. I'm a huge empath and can read people pretty well. And just like when I first met him, I feel like Clav might not have any memories of his previous self.

So then, why did he wrap his hands around my mouth and pin me down that night after we fucked? I was asking about his dad, asking if maybe the bats were truly demons and came from another world. And maybe…maybe I was pushing too damn hard. It was a touchy subject. He was being protective of his dad, thinking kids were playing pranks on him. He asked me to stop several times.

Clavicle coughs, and I flinch at the wet sound. He needs medicine.

"No," Clav says. "I honestly don't remember a thing."

Tarsus barks out a laugh. "Then why in the name of the core of the sun did you lead the bat folk into battle, if you remembered nothing?"

Clav lifts his gray eyes to Tarsus. He looks tired now. No anger, not a drop of rage to be found. "Abaddon told me you refused to stop the volcano from destroying everyone. That you…that you didn't care about anyone dying here."

Guilt embeds into my chest, hot and uncomfortable. Tarsus has refused to stop the volcano…because my death is the only thing that can stop it.

"He told me if I took my throne, I could stop the human sacrifices." Clav's brows tug into a V in thought. "But I realize now that Abaddon lied to me. And he's…probably the one who cursed me."

Tarsus regards Clav carefully. "I cursed you. And it wasn't a curse, so much as a banishment."

Clav glances at me, and my breath freezes in my lungs as it always does when his eyes connect with mine, as though I'm waiting for him to either grab me and throw me into the volcano, or make love to me like he did that night at the inn.

"While you were calling down your own curse upon me," Tarsus is saying, "and everyone I'm related to—including innocent children—I banished you." Tarsus' brows furrow. "Do you truly not remember?"

"I swear." The guttural sound in Clav's throat rips my heart in two when he meets Tarsus' gaze again.

"Do me one better." Tarsus holds out their left fist and sticks out their little finger. "Pinky swear that you do not remember your life as Sovereign Clavicle."

My heart jolts. This again.

"You tricked me once," Clav sneers. "I don't exactly want to lose another finger."

"Then you have nothing to worry about, right? Don't pinky promise unless this is true: You do not have any recollection whatsoever from your previous life as Sovereign Clavicle. Pinky swear, and if your pinky remains intact by tomorrow, I might actually believe you."

Clav stares at Tarsus' outstretched pinky, his nose scrunched, as though remembering how his other pinky must have deteriorated off his hand. How many fingers is he willing to lose? If he refuses to swear, it'll prove that he's lying. If he does swear and loses a pinky by morning, we'll all know the truth and he'll remain a prisoner until Tarsus decides they have no use for him.

"I pinky promise," Clav finally says, his voice soft now, "only if you pinky promise that your only reason for banishing me was to stop the human sacrifices." Clav holds his pinky up, and without hesitation, Tarsus links them together.

"I swear," Tarsus says, "My only wish was to stop the sacrifices of innocent humans."

Clav tightens their pinkies together, leaning forward until their noses are nearly touching. "And I swear that I do not remember anything from my previous fae life as a Sovereign."

They shake on it, then Tarsus rips their pinky away and stands, as if even that small touch, that closeness, was too much. I know by the way Tarsus becomes unhinged every time they're around Clav that they still have very strong feelings for the Spine Sovereign.

"Assuming you're telling the truth, then here's my truth, Mortal Clav." Tarsus pins Clav with a cryptic gaze as they back away toward the door. "When I banished you, I gave you another life. A better life. A...more enriching life than the misery you were born with. If I truly took away your memories of everyone you knew in your fae life and everyone you lost in the process, then I swear, that's what made you the...light-hearted, kinder person you are today." They heave out a breath and shake their head. "Mandi would have done you a favor keeping their mouth shut and their secrets to themself. If they truly loved you like a son, they would have let you live in ignorant bliss the rest of your mortal life."

Clav's throat convulses in a swallow. "Well that's just the thing. I'm not sure they ever did love me like a son, or if I was simply a duty they needed to fulfill."

Damn.

I step forward. "What are the chances of making him...one of you again?" I ask Tarsus. "And restoring his memories, assuming he's truly forgotten?"

Tarsus' brows furrow and he glares down at me. "So he can remember why he's so evil and try to kill me again?"

"If I wanted to kill you so badly," Clav sneers, "there must have been a damn good reason."

"There wasn't." Tarsus' teeth flash in anger. "You simply had so little control of your childhood, that once you figured out a way to curse your father and take the throne, you wanted control of everything. And your own empire wasn't enough for you, you wanted all five empires, and you knew the only way to do that was to up the monthly sacrifices to Mother Terra. Trust me, you do not want your old memories back. And as for restoring you to your immortal, magical self..." Tarsus snorts. "I would sooner die than watch you become the ruthless king you once were." They jerk their chin to me. "Come on ."

I turn to follow them, but Clav's voice stops me.

"Yeah," Clav says. "Follow your fae lord like the little dog you are."

I whirl around. There's that anger in Clav's eyes again, the same fury I saw when he had me pinned helplessly beneath him, hands around my throat. His words hit their mark. I know Tarsus doesn't feel like my lord, but there are a lot of fae who see me as his little human pet, and Clav's words cut to the quick. The backs of my eyes burn, but I fight back my tears and glare at him.

"I was willing to stand up for you," I say, "even after you had me pinned to the bed."

Clav flinches and looks away, a muscle jerking in his jaw. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry." They meet my gaze, and if I didn't know any better, I'd believe him. "I'm sorry for attacking you."

"I'll see you in the morning." I turn to follow Tarsus out.

"Are you going to kill me?" His question is so quiet, I barely hear it.

Tarsus pauses, their hands clasped loosely behind their back, then turns their head just enough for us to hear them say, " will decide tomorrow what to do with you, based on whether or not your pinky is still intact." They meet his gaze. "Since is the one you've affected the most." Without another word, they step out of the earthen chamber, and I follow behind, shutting Clav in behind the metal doors.

*

I can't seem to fall asleep. I'm desperate to know what's going on with Clav. Is his pinky disintegrating as we lie here? What excuse will he make this time to make us believe he's innocent when it does disappear? Tarsus said it could take up to a full day for the pinky to fall off, so sitting in his cell and watching his pinky would be about as effective as watching a pot of water come to a rolling boil. Will he be innocent, after all? My chest swells at the thought—that the Clav I met at the library could potentially be the real thing. That…that maybe he only lost his shit because of how protective he was of his father. I can forgive that.

I still remember the pink that had crept into his cheeks when I helped him soak his latte from the library carpet. How he wasn't the least bit put off by my trans-ness. In the fae realms, being trans isn't a big deal at all. They understand the fluidity of gender and sexuality. At least, in every empire save for the Solar Empire. But in the human realms, you have to be careful about who you share that information with. Even having been raised a human, Clav didn't blink at my presentation or the way my voice wasn't as deep as a traditional man's voice. Instead we talked about my favorite things: books.

Clav has this magnetic energy about him, this genuine aura that makes you want to linger in his presence. He was fucking adorable that first day I met him, with his brown satchel, black rimmed glasses, the nerdy way he fidgeted on his feet and bit his lower lip. His hot pink hair is what drew me to him the moment I entered the library.

So. Fucking. Gay.

I was watching him out of the corner of my eye for a good few minutes while I picked out my books, trying to get a read on him, maybe even flirt a little. I watched the way he bit his lower lip while scanning the titles on the shelf. He'd hardly taken a drink of his latte, and his mind seemed somewhere else the entire time. He seemed to give up on the books he was scanning and began heading my way, to the smut section of the library, making my heart palpitate in my chest while I tried to think of a good pickup line. Then he somehow tripped over his own two feet and dropped his cup, his latte exploding across the carpet, and I found myself crossing the room without even considering whether it was a good idea.

I had no idea he was Clav. Not until I bent down to help him clean up his spilled drink. Not until he looked at me with those deep gray eyes that almost looked silver when the sunlight caught them.

He might have been stuck in a human body, but those eyes were fae through and through.

I didn't know whether to be terrified or amused when I recognized him. Imagine a ruthless killer-king known for his greed for control and genocide of humans. Now imagine him with bubblegum hair and black-rimmed glasses. Yeah. That's exactly what was going on in my brain. Complete disorientation. And when he told me his name, Clav, I knew. Gods, I knew, and terror struck me. But his inviting personality quickly drowned the terror, filling me with intrigue instead.

Tarsus still thinks it's an act, even after what happened in the throne room, even after Clav hunched over and wept, looking like a lost boy. I turn my head and study at Tarsus lying in bed beside me. Their silky white hair is strewn messily across the pillow, their mouth slightly opened as they sleep. They told me not to get my hopes up. They told me to go ahead and come up with a good punishment fit for a lying king who wouldn't think twice about tossing me into the volcano to end the eruption.

I did, but all I came up with is heartbreak, because apparently one night in Clav's presence was enough to make me fall hard.

Finally, I can't stand it any more. I'm wide awake and I have to know.

Pulling on a t-shirt and gray sweatpants, I head down the hall, quietly padding down the stairwell, through the kitchen, and down, down, down into the earthen prison. The guards know better than to stop me from opening the metal door to Clav's cell. Still, they stand a little straighter, a little more at the ready for a vengeful, wicked king to escape.

A cool breeze hits me when I open the door and peer into the dark, damp room, illuminated only by a flickering torch. Fae might be able to withstand brutal conditions like this for a long period of time, but they're not ideal for mortals. Already Clav is coughing, due to the mildew or mold growing from the constant wetness down here. Even his clothes are damp from a stream from the condensation on the walls that makes its way through the cell. He'll get a rash on his skin, and get sick from the cold, damp, cell. The rancid smell threatens to make me puke. I was planning on hanging out down here with him until his finger either fell off or remained intact, but there's no fucking way I'm staying down here.

Nor am I leaving him behind.

He's not asleep. He's staring at his hands, and when I step in, he looks up at me. Dark circles form under his eyes, and the life in his gaze has dulled. He's probably not slept since, well, since I met him three days ago. And…he only ate one meal since we captured him. That was twelve hours ago. God dammit.

"Come on," I whisper, using the key I took from Ulna to unclasp the shackles from around his wrists. The metal of the shackles left his wrists raw and red. Letting them clatter to the floor, I pull his arm around my shoulders. He coughs again, his cough wet and flinching.

Fuck, what have I done? I could have easily swayed Tarsus into placing Clav into a better prison. Tarsus would have bucked at the idea, but they would have listened. But I was too busy stewing, thinking of my own problems. In my head, Clav turned into a fae the day he had his hand clamped over my mouth as he pinned me down and shouted at me. But he's still in a mortal body.

With his arm slung around my shoulders, I help him up the stairs, through the kitchen, down the halls, and up more stairs. He's able to walk okay, but he's significantly weaker than he was only hours ago when he ran for the throne. As if defeat carved surrender into the marrow of his bones.

I take him to a guest room. The moon must be full tonight, because its faded light breaks through the thinner clouds that have been hovering over our continent since the battle. The moonlight slants through the window, painting the black marble floors and pale walls in an ashen glow.

I lead Clav straight to the bathroom, set him on the toilet, and turn on the hot water, preparing the bath. I noticed at lunch the sickness and fatigue that clung to his body. At that moment, he was a prisoner who needed to be reminded of his place. Now, I see him as a human who had no choice but to fight in a war he knew nothing about.

Once the bath is filled, I begin to help lift his shirt off.

"I can undress myself," he snaps, though the bite in his voice is weak and pitiful. It's hard seeing him like this. Serious. In pain. This is the boy I joked with, slept with, and it breaks my heart to see him this miserable.

He stands and slowly unbuttons his stained, wrinkled shirt, but his fingers fumble with the buttons, and he nearly topples over before I catch him, fingers digging into his ribs. I help him unbutton the rest of his shirt, not caring now how much he might fight my help.

When all his clothes are removed, a punch of guilt hits my stomach.

His body has bruises and scratches all over it. From the battle, from the fall from the balcony when Weaver was chasing him, who knows. His ribs are showing. He was already skinny to begin with, but three days with very little food has made him more emaciated than before. He steps into the bathtub and sinks beneath the water, the relief visible on his face. My heart squeezes at the sight, the vulnerability written all over his face as I use a rag to bathe him, being extra careful around his bruises and cuts.

When I move to his wrists to clean the wounds left by the shackles, I notice bruises marking his forearm, right next to the dinosaur tattoo. Another deep gash crosses his chest. "What are those from?"

He looks at his arm, the crease between his brow deepening. "Abaddon. He fucked me. Consensually, but damn. He was rough." The corner of his lips pulls up in a smile, as if remembering the event fondly, and it makes me second guess him again.

"You…willingly fucked the bat king?" Maybe Tarsus was right all along. As a human, I'm not sure I would have fucked a bat-like creature on my first night here. I'm not sure I would do it now, even after being exposed to all the strange creatures in this world.

Abaddon is easily eight feet of brute muscle and fur and massive, leathery wings with gleaming talons that could end me with one swipe. Abaddon is nightmare fuel. So the fact that Clav fucked him willingly…I move back, trepidation snaking up my spine.

"He seemed…safe enough." Clav's smile fades into a frown, his gray eyes meeting mine. "And…I don't know. Maybe it's all the monster fucker books I read, but I wanted to live out that fantasy."

A laugh bubbles out of me. Books will always be our common ground, and apparently, our undoing. "Was it everything you hoped for?"

His brows rise in surprise, and for the first time since that night at the faire, his features soften, and humor glints in his eyes. "It hurt a little." He snorts. "Okay, it hurt a fucking lot. His dick was huge. I'm pretty sure he tore my ass up." He reaches up and caresses his jaw. "My jaw still hurts. And his talons poked into my skin and scratched me up pretty bad." He twists his shoulders where another large gash slashes down his back. I use the washcloth to gently clean it. "But, I mean, it was fucking phenomenal."

"Holy shit," I can't stop my own chuckle from escaping me as I move to another scratch on his arm. "Don't tell Tarsus you fucked the bat king. They will lose their fucking mind."

Clav snorts. "What's Tarsus' deal, anyway? They're not even giving me a chance to state my side of the story. It's like…they think I deserve to suffer for shit I don't even remember doing."

"They think you're lying."

"Yeah, well. I'm not." He shifts his eyes to mine. "What about you? What do you think?"

I look at his pinky, still intact. Not blue or gray…yet. "I think I want to believe you."

I stand to leave him alone to finish up washing, but he grabs my wrist. "I really am sorry," he says, his eyes holding mine. "I'm sorry for losing my shit on you. I'm sorry for calling you Tarsus' dog. None of this is your fault, yet you somehow got caught in the crossfires."

His apology leaves me speechless. "I chose this life. I know the risks that come with living in a fae world." He drops his hand from my wrist, and I offer a small smile. "Do you?"

He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. "I'm learning."

I nod toward the sink. "I got you a toothbrush and toothpaste and all the other toiletries I thought you might want." Stepping out of the bathroom, I wait by the door to ensure he doesn't try to escape. He comes out a few minutes later, nothing but a white towel wrapped around his narrow waist. He doesn't look so bad now. I can still make out muscles in his abdomen, and his bubblegum hair is a wet mess that gives me an immediate boner. In nothing but a towel and his glasses, he looks like a model. I grow hot at the sight of him, at the memory of the fucking we shared—the way he gently knelt before me, then the way he laid me on the bed and pounded into me—and I quickly look away.

Clavicle sits on the bed, and I provide him with a fresh set of boxers, sweatpants, and a white t-shirt, but he only sets them aside.

I sink onto the bed beside him. "I'm sorry we didn't take better care of you. I was…I was so…confused, and—"

"You had every right to fear me."

My mouth clamps shut at the look in his eyes when they meet mine.

He shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his knuckle. "You trusted me, and I betrayed that trust when I lost my shit." He looks at his fists curled on his lap. "I'm generally a nice guy. I don't know why I lost it like that. All I saw was red. Like I was…possessed."

I lick my lower lip. "Maybe you were."

He blinks back at me. "What do you mean?"

"I wonder if it has something to do with your…fae self. Maybe he's still in there somewhere, trying to claw his way out."

Clav stares at me, as if I cracked some code. As if I brought up something he's suspected all along. His throat convulses in a swallow, and he nods. "That's exactly what it felt like."

I take his slender fingers in mine, and search his eyes. Here's the boy I met at the library, the man I watched jousting with while sharing a turkey leg at the Ren Faire. He made me smile, made me feel that belly-laughing-joy that even Tarsus fails to deliver most days. Tarsus makes me feel safe and valued. Tarsus puts me on a pedestal behind a pane of glass where no one can touch me or hurt me. I adore Tarsus.

But Clav is raw. His foot is bouncing on the floor from nervousness or his obvious ADHD, maybe both, and his bottom lip is pinched between his teeth, and all I want to do is kiss him. There's an energy between us that's palpable and rabid. This feeling I have with him is unlike anything I've ever felt. Like a high school crush. It's not full of lust and power plays like it is with Wolf, it's not from the prey/predator kink I get from Ash, and it's not like the awe I feel every time I stand in front of Tarsus.

This is something more…human. Something I never thought I'd be into, but goddamn, I'm into it.

"Clav," I whisper hoarsely as I lean in closer. "Clav, I—"

As if reading my mind, Clav leans in until our mouths crash together. Kissing another human…it feels awkward compared to kissing fae and vampires. But there's something organic about it, and it's refreshing. Clav drinks me in like he needs me in order to live. Clav is rough, touching me like I'm made of skin and bone, and not glass.

Pressing his hand to my chest, he roughly shoves me back and crawls over me. The unexpected force only serves to make me want him more. His towel slips off his hips, revealing his dick, which is already long and hard for me. I wrap my hands around his length and give it a good tug, bringing a gruff moan out of him that fills my stomach with butterflies.

He begins peeling my shirt up, like he needs to see all of me, and I let him. He tosses it across the room and stares down at me with a hungry gaze, like I'm a treasure he's been waiting his whole life to find. Leaning down, he kisses one scar upon my chest, then the other, and I shudder beneath him as warmth floods every vein, every nerve.

It's nice being a world that doesn't care if you're trans, but that also means they don't understand the magnitude of top surgery, the courage it takes to lean into who you truly are when the world refuses to see you that way. The way Clav is honoring my scars right now, the way he's looking at me like I'm the most beautiful boy he's ever beheld…it makes my throat close.

Gods, I need him so badly. His mouth finds mine again, and he dry humps my stomach with his cock while his fingers work their way between us until they find my clit, stroking it in lazy circles until I'm positive I'm going to go mad if he doesn't get inside me like right now.

"Put it in," I whisper against his lips.

He pulls away, searches my eyes. "Are you sure? Last time—"

"Last time, I pushed you to your limit with my constant questions to which you had no answers. Last time, I didn't stop pushing when you asked me to." I grab his dick and guide it toward my center. "I won't make that mistake again, Clav." I lift my head, brushing my lips over his chin. "I want it, if you want it."

He prods my opening, gently slipping it in, and groans when he sinks in to the hilt. I love the way he fills me. This booknerd, this fae king who could destroy me if he had his powers. I love everything about him. He must have put cologne on after his shower, because he smells fresh and divine.

He begins pumping into me, slowly filling me at first, like he thinks he needs to go slow because his dick is huge for a human. But then he must realize I'm already used to a massive fae dick, and he becomes more rough. Pretty soon, he's fucking me hard and fast, like he's chasing that explosion of pleasure that's slowly building in both of us.

His mouth finds mine, his kiss raw and aggressive as his tongue explores my own. I've been fucking vampires and fae for so long, I forgot what it felt like to be fucked by a human. To have someone pour all their energy into the fucking, using every muscle in their body to thrust their cock inside me while sweat beads on their temple. To have someone who's not worried about breaking me.

Our tongues explore each other's mouths while sweat builds between us as we fuck. He drives his cock into me over and over until my insides tighten, threatening to combust. He's grabbing both my wrists, pinning them on either side of my head while he uses them for leverage as I wrap my legs around his waist. And there's something incredibly sexy about being pinned down by the Prince of Ruin who everyone is afraid of—even if I know he's not the monster they think he is.

He sinks into me, deeper than before, and I feel him fill me while he thrusts two more deep, slow thrusts. The swell of his cock inside me as he unloads in my cunt is my undoing. Blinding pleasure swirls around me like a whirlwind while my core convulses around him, as if desperate to never lose this feeling, to never lose him.

His body collapses on top of mine, his cock softening inside me as he slips out. Rolling off me, he lies on his back beside me, his breaths coming fast and hard as he drags his hands down the length of his face.

"Holy fucking shit, ," he says, turning his head to look at me. He links his fingers through mine. "You are by far the best fuck I've ever had. I can't believe we found each other at the library."

As if I wasn't going to find him either way.

"Was it better than bat sex?" I ask, smiling weakly.

"Way better, babe." His throat convulses in a hard swallow. "You're both water and steel. Fluid, yet unmovable. Tough as nails, yet light as a feather. I know I can fuck you hard and you can take it, yet, you're so gentle beneath me."

I tuck my smile between my teeth.

"What?" he asks, his own mouth curving into a small smile.

"It's just…I'm usually the one who takes control in the bedroom. But I think it's because I'm surrounded by fae and vampires and creatures far more powerful than me, who could end my life in moments, even if it's by accident. I want to show them I'm not weak. I want them to know they don't have to be gentle with me, so I take control, exert dominance. Yet they're gentle all the same, no matter how rough or dominant I am with them." I lick my lips and turn to my side to fully look at him. "But with you…it's different. I like you taking control. I love how rough you are with me. I love that you know that I can take it."

He blinks, then reaches out with his hand and cups my cheek. "This is going to sound fucking sick, but sometimes I have fantasies about you and Tarsus fucking me at the same time…while I'm a prisoner. I'm not usually into BDSM or kinks, but, like, when I had those chains around my wrists that first night and Tarsus was inches from my face, I got so hard imagining them kissing me. Fucking me." He huffs. "That's fucked up, isn't it?"

I can't hide my smile. "Sounds like you've been reading too many books with a long list of trigger warnings."

A husky chuckles escapes him.

"Maybe one of these days we'll reenact this…fantasy," I add.

"Not sure Tarsus would be on board."

"I've seen the way they look at you. I've felt the way they fuck me right after they see you. I don't think it'll take much to convince them."

The way his eyes shine warms my heart. Clav has this magnetic energy about him. A joy that filters off his body like sunlight in summer time, and apparently I'm deficient in Vitamin D.

He moves closer, closes his eyes as he leans in for a kiss, but then he flinches and jerks back. The smile is wiped off his face, a look of pure horror taking its place as he stares at his hand.

I follow his gaze…and…oh.

Oh no.

His pinky—his last pinky—the one he swore with hours ago—has turned an ugly shade of gray. He sits up abruptly, his eyes wide and his mouth open as if in a silent scream. My chest tightens. Has he been lying all this time? I scoot away from him, nearly falling off the bed and stumbling back, hands up in defense. His gray eyes dart to mine and he shakes his head.

"—I-I swear—" He throws his head and releases a guttural scream as his pink slowly peels off his hand, dropping to the bed. A dead appendage. "Fuck!" His voice is on the verge of tears as he stares at his now-four-fingered hand. He lifts both hands in front of his face. Both hands without a pinky. And now…now a tear slips down his cheek. His shoulders convulse with fresh sobs as he covers his face with his four-fingered hands. "Tarsus is going kill me now."

His low, husky voice rips my heart in two, and I tentatively move closer, wanting to comfort him, yet heeding Tarsus' warning that all this is an act. If I touch him, will he pin me to the bed and strangle me?

"C-Clav?" His name is a gentle whisper on my lips. "Please, tell me why your pinky is gone, if you claim to not remember anything."

He lowers his hands and looks at me through red-rimmed eyes. "I swear, . I don't remember anything. I don't know why—" His voice chokes off in a sob and he pulls his knees up, crossing his arms over them as he buries his face into his folded arms. "Never mind. You won't believe me anyway."

I stare at his shuddering body, listen to the sobs wracking out of him because he thinks he's going to die in the morning. My heart goes out to him. Like, it legit feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest while I watch him sob like this. And fuck it. If this is all an act, then fuck him. But fuck me if I just stand by the boy I've come to care a bit too much for when he needs me.

I slowly crawl back onto the bed, settling beside him while I stroke his back comfortingly. I'm not sure if he'll pull away and put up a wall, ignore me, or tell me to fuck off, but I'm surprised when he leans into me. Wrapping both arms around him, I hold him while he sobs, telling him not to panic, that we'll figure it out, until his body stops shaking from the sobs.

"Let's think this through," I whisper into his hair, trying to ease his panic. "Why do you think your finger would fall off, Clav?"

He pulls away from me, his cheeks blotchy from crying, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed as he looks at his hands, as if verifying that he truly lost his other pinky.

"I swore that I didn't remember anything of my past life," he says, lowering his hands. "And, I mean, I don't remember anything…tangible." He chews his lips and lifts his red-rimmed eyes to the ceiling. "But since I came to this realm, I've been having these nightmares and visions. When I picked up my father's skull, when I first saw the bone palace, when I was momentarily knocked out after leaping off the balcony…."

His voice trails off and he shakes his head as he stares across the room. "I guess they must be some sort of ancient memories. And I told Tarsus, I swore I didn't remember a single thing." He looks at me. "But I guess I lied. To him…and to myself. Because I do remember the way my father looked at me just before I drove my sword through his heart. I chose the sword over the obsidian dagger, because I didn't want him to turn to ash. I wanted to carry his severed head into the throne room with me. I wanted everyone to see what I'd done, so they would fear me."

He squeezes his eyes shut, leans his head back against the headboard. "And when I sat upon the Throne of Bones, with the Crown of Teeth upon my brow…I remembered what it felt like to rule the world and hunger for more. I remember the look in Tarsus' eyes…when he still loved me."

Reaching over, I link Clav's long fingers through mine while placing my other arm around his shoulders.

"It's like you said." His voice is husky as he looks at our linked fingers. "I feel like a stranger is trapped deep within my marrow, and he's trying to get out. When I'm asleep, he fills my head with terrible memories. When I'm mad, he clutches my heart in his fist and urges me to act on my rage." He swallows and shakes his head, a teardrop slipping down his cheek. I reach up and brush it away, my heart splitting in two when he meets my gaze. "I don't want him to come out, . I'm fucking terrified that if he takes over, if this Clavicle somehow gains control of this body…the real me, the mortal me, will just disappear. Or worse, be trapped in the mind of a ruthless killer."

I cling to his hand. "I won't let that happen. I have so many powerful friends. So many people who work with all kinds of magic. There will be a way to stop that from happening, I swear it."

But even as the words leave my lips, I'm not so sure. Because curses take things and twist them around to how they're not supposed to be—like taking a fae and turning him mortal. Light Magic takes those same things and makes them right. And if Sovereign Clavicle was the original owner of this body, then this body is his by right. No amount of Light Magic will turn him back, no matter how fucked up this king might be. Which means Wolfsbane, the Terra Witch who sold their soul to their Shadow, might be our only option at keeping my precious human Clav here.

The only question is: will this human version of Clav be able to sway Mother Terra from demanding human sacrifices the same way Sovereign Clavicle would?